Cry
by Sarah K
Summary: Post-Becomings, Buffy is in LA and in bad shape when Angel mysteriously turns up ... or is it a dream?
1. Drowning

Title: Drowning Series: Cry Author: Sarah K. Email: TwirlGirl2008@bolt.com Disclaimer: Joss's Timeline: After Becoming pt 2, kind of an alternate Anne Spoilers: Up to Becoming 2 Summary: Buffy's in really bad shape after Becoming part 2, living in LA, when suddenly Angel shows up. Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just email me. Feedback: PLEEEEEEEEASSEEEE! Rating: If you can watch the show, you can read this so I guess PG, PG13  
  
  
  
  
  
I felt like I was drowning. The tears just kept coming. I couldn't stop them. It didn't matter how hard I tried, how tough my resolve was, how many declarations I mumbled to myself. I couldn't stop crying.  
  
And maybe it was wrong to. Maybe I would be wrong to stop. Last night, after sobbing and shaking and trembling my way to fretful sleep, I awoke with fresh tears on my pillow. I cried even in my sleep. I couldn't help it. But now I felt sick. It had been so long since I had had a decent sleep, anything more than a nibble to eat. Bile rose up in my throat and I only got to lean over the edge of the bed before I was throwing up.  
  
Then I was frustrated at myself. *Why the hell am I acting like this? Get a grip!* I decided right there to stop crying, mostly because I didn't want to throw up again. *I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.* I chanted it stupidly, as if it would help.  
  
But it did. Amazed at myself, no tears fell down my cheeks for almost a half of an hour. I watched the seconds tick by on my clock and thought it was over. The intense mourning. The grief. The loss. Maybe even the pain.  
  
Pain. I wanted it to be over. But it never would be. Unless he came through that door and wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay and that he forgave me, the pain would never be over. Never. And I deserved that pain. Because he was going through even worse pain than I was right now. He was being tortured, probably mercilessly. Why? Why was my beautiful Angel, the most caring, passionate, amazing creature to ever grace this world, being hurt? Me. Because of me. Wasn't it always me? I caused him so much pain. I sent him to Hell.  
  
One mention of his pain and I was sobbing again.  
  
I was drowning. Dying because of my grief and guilt and loss. Drowning in my own tears. 


	2. Dreams

Title: Drowning Series: Cry Author: Sarah K. Email: TwirlGirl2008@bolt.com Disclaimer: Joss's Timeline: After Becoming pt 2, kind of an alternate Anne Spoilers: Up to Becoming 2 Summary: Buffy's in really bad shape after Becoming part 2, living in LA, when suddenly Angel shows up. Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just email me. Feedback: PLEEEEEEEEASSEEEE! Rating: R  
  
I woke up freezing cold, still trembling. That was also something that never stopped. Trembling must have been Tears' best friend that had gotten invited along for the whole party. I missed being still and sure. But unless I could be still and sure to stroke his cheek, I didn't really want to be still and sure.  
  
I sighed and shakily got out of bed. I started cleaning up my mess from last night, making faces at the smell and probably ruined carpet. The landlord would make me pay extra for 'trashing' the room - and *anything* was trashing it to him. Walking on the rug was trashing it in his book.  
  
Not that it was a great place that had to be taken care of anyway. The whole place was a dump. I belonged in a dump. It didn't matter. I was too poor to pay for anything else, anyway.  
  
I soaked the rug in some kind of cleaner I had found in the cabinet - the only cleaner there was. Whatever. I'd let it soak until I came home. It would stop smelling by then, I hoped.  
  
Mom would have been able to get it out. Mom was great with that stuff. I let myself have a small smile through the light tears that were endlessly streaming down my face, even if I wasn't sobbing. Mom. I missed her so much. Yeah, she annoyed me all the time. Sure, she handled me telling her that I was the Slayer badly. Yeah, we weren't the closest we could be. But I still loved her. It wasn't like the love I felt - feel - for Angel. That love is complete, full, everything. This love is cozy, older, but also forever. Even when I'm feeling my most love for Mom, I can still breathe.  
  
Cozy, older, yet forever. Yeah, forever until two months ago. Then my life - and Angel (I gave a shudder and a sob)- went to Hell. Mom found out about the whole Slayer deal and really wigged. I don't mean had a small problem. I mean really, completely, totally, wigged. Kicked-me-out-of-the- house-wigged.  
  
Not that I could blame her. Why would someone ever love me? I sighed again and tried to wipe some of the tears off of my face. I slipped out of my oversized T-shirt and into my work uniform, not bothering to shower. I threw my hair into a messy up-do and headed to work. Nothing mattered anymore. Not even my hair.  
  
******  
  
When I first got the job at the Diner, a lot of people noticed the silent tears constantly streaming down my face. People were concerned. They wanted stories, answers that I wouldn't ever be able to give. So I built a little self control at work. It was hard. But eventually I made sure to keep the tears minimal, crashing down only when I was on break. Tears always formed behind my eyes, no matter what. But I tried to keep them from falling.  
  
As long as they weren't really heavy, nobody bothered anymore. To them, I was anti-social. The quiet type. If only they knew. Before I practically died and ran away, I was Ms. Social Butterfly. Especially in L.A. Then in Sunnydale, I was kind of the loser-type. I could have done so much better, but slaying took up most of my time. Besides, I'd rather hang with Willow and Xander than the Cordettes.  
  
Willow and Xander brought bittersweet memories. But I wouldn't let the memories get to me. Not at work.  
  
After my 8 AM - 11 PM shift, I was emotionally and physically drained, ready to collapse. I hadn't really eaten since before everything happened. I'd had nibbles, maybe bites, enough to keep me alive. I noticed how thin I was. Too thin. Unhealthy thin. The bags under my eyes were getting worse and worse. I hadn't had a shower in a few days, either. I felt sick. Too sick to make it home.  
  
But I did. I always made it home. If you could call it home. To me, it was just a place. 1630 Revello Drive was my home. The Library was my home. And Willow's, and Xander's. The Bronze. Angel's apartment. Sunnydale. Sunnydale was my home.  
  
I fell into bed and immediately started sobbing, but I was too sick and tired of crying to stay awake for long. In a few minutes, I was completely unaware of everything around me.  
  
Maybe if I wasn't so unaware, I would have noticed.  
  
******  
  
"A-Angel?" I whispered timidly. "You're - here?" My voice cracked.  
  
He smiled warmly at me. "I'm here."  
  
Some part in the back of my head was screaming at me. It's a dream. You're going to wake up and hurt like hell. It's going to be the same thing. Cry. Work. Sleep. Cry. But the rest of me was SO not listening. I could see him. He was right there, I could touch him.  
  
So what the heck? I did. I reached out and traced his cheek. Electricity sparked between us and I immediately fell into his arms. He held me gently, so gently, as if I would break. As if I was fragile and precious. He smiled and stroked my hair and whispered words of love in my ear.  
  
And me? I cried. I sobbed. I apologized and told him how awful everything was. How sorry I was. How I didn't deserve anything at all, I didn't deserve him. And everytime I said something, he shushed me, forgiving me, reassuring me.  
  
And I loved him all over again.  
  
I loved him so much. My heart filled with Angel and I was content to be held in - well, I don't actually know where we were. Blackness, all around, infinite, an abyss. But light radiated off of Angel. He was my strength and my safeness and my light. He always would be.  
  
"I love you." I whispered.  
  
"You do?" his eyes suddenly turned quizzical.  
  
"Of course. It's not even a question."  
  
"Well ... well then ... how could you do ... do this?" He dropped me, his eyes and demeanor grew cold and harsh. He pointed to the sword stuck in his gut, and I died again. I felt so awful. So guilty. I would have gladly died a million deaths right there if his pain could be eased.  
  
"I love you, I love you, Angel, God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please. Please forgive me! You have to, I - Angel! I love you!"  
  
Then I woke up.  
  
******  
  
I felt terrible the next morning. Worse than I'd ever felt. Not just because of the guilt and pain. Because I hadn't eaten or showered or slept. I was really, really sick.  
  
Nevertheless I dragged myself out of bed and shook more than walked to work. One day of missing it and I wouldn't be able to pay rent at the end of the month.  
  
Work was Hell as usual. Worse, even, because I was so sick. 11 o'clock couldn't have come faster. But it finally did. I left as soon as possible and started on the way to the apartment. I was shaking so bad. Shaking like a leaf. The memory sprang fresh tears to my eyes. God, I loved him so much.  
  
Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into someone. I mumbled a hurried sorry and kept going, but only until I realized the person had stopped and was staring back at me. I turned around and started to snap at him, until I fainted.  
  
I couldn't help it.  
  
******  
  
I awoke a few minutes later in Angel's arms. It was a dream. It had to be. But whatever. It felt nice.  
  
He smoothed the hair off of my face and felt my forehead. I noticed him shake his head grimly. He gathered me up and carried me somewhere. I was too groggy to notice where.  
  
He laid me on a bed. Probably the one in my apartment. He took my coat and shoes off but then hesitated.  
  
"Bu-Buffy?"  
  
Oh God. His voice. Angel's voice. The sound washed over me, the deep, rich tones. I loved his voice so much. The way it caressed me as if it was a touch, the way he was always careful not to yell or upset.  
  
"Buffy?" He asked softly again.  
  
"Angel?" I whispered back.  
  
"Is ... Is it okay if ... I ... Change your, um, clothes?" He asked, clearly embarrassed.  
  
I nodded my head yes, too tired to respond. He undid my shirt and then hesitated again before undoing my bra. Ever the gentleman, My Angel. I could feel him staring at my breasts. Not in a bad way ... I hoped. He had seen them before. I didn't think he was repulsed or anything by them ... What if he was?! My eyes opened as quickly as they could in my sleepy state.  
  
I saw him looking at me with complete adoration in his eyes. He was slightly smiling. He apprehensively reached a hand out and brushed it across my left breast. He drew in a little sigh and smiled again, and then got another shirt out of the chest of drawers by the wall.  
  
I cringed at the thought. I hadn't washed or cleaned anything in a long time. He must have thought I was some kind of bum. But he didn't seem to notice or care.  
  
He slipped a cleaner bra and shirt on me, and then took my skirt off. He left my underwear on, not wanting to intrude that far. Ever, ever the gentleman. When I was changed, he tenderly tucked me in. By now I was fighting to stay awake. I didn't want to miss a second of this.  
  
I felt him get up and start to walk away, and I let out a whimper.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Please, don't leave me. Please." I begged. Then I realized how immature I was being. He had a right to leave. "I mean, that is ... if you want to, go ahead, I ..." My voice died out and my eyes fluttered shut. Too much. They were too heavy to keep open.  
  
I felt him approach the bed and take my hand. I was happy with that. Anything. As long as he was there.  
  
"I was going to get you something to eat. You look starved. But I guess ... If you really want me to ..."  
  
I was too tired to respond.  
  
He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside me, even daring to come under the covers. He took me into his arms and I visibly shivered at his touch.  
  
He immediately let go. "Am ... Am I too cold?"  
  
"No." came my muffled reply. I crawled my way back into his arms. I had only shivered because I felt too happy, too complete. That and the sickness in my stomach.  
  
I relaxed in that spot, ready to never leave it.  
  
When my breathing became even and he thought I was fully asleep, I felt him get up and walk out of the room.  
  
I didn't think I had woken up from a dream. Even if I hadn't, he was gone. I was alone.  
  
I started to drown myself in tears again. 


	3. Ill

I wondered if I should go back into her room after I had eaten. Maybe I should just disappear, letting her believe it was all a dream. Maybe she would be happier. Come to a sort of ... peace, after I had forgiven her.  
I looked into her room and saw her shaking with sobs, only half asleep, and my heart broke. It had broken a few times already that day. I wondered how broken it could possibly become. This was all my fault. Everything she was going through, and suffering, was because of me.  
If only I hadn't followed Darla into that alley. If only I hadn't eaten that Romani girl. If only I hadn't met her. If only she wasn't so perfect that I fell in love with her. Now I wanted to die. I'd rather have died a million deaths than to see her like this.  
She did look pretty awful. Huge, sunken bags under her eyes, pale, dirty, sobbing, terrified. Sick. She was so weak, it frightened me. So had fallen so far from what she was, that night before she had to sacrifice me. I was still a little angry with her for that. How could she? I know I couldn't. I knew she loved me. But maybe I meant less to her than she did to me, just because she was able to do that.  
But then I thought of myself. I pushed her to it. Of course. Nobody could put up with me and not want to kill me. I killed Jenny. I let a sob escape my throat, a wild, scary sounding one. I had hurt Giles, Willow, Xander, Joyce, Buffy ... so much. Oh God, Buffy. I love you. I'm so sorry.  
I was pulled out of my thoughts by her voice.  
"Oh god, Angel, I'm so sorry. I ... It's all my fault. Please. Please, I'm sorry! I love you! Angel! No! I love you! I love you! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!" She cried out frantically.  
I rushed into the room and tried to comfort her. It was all my fault.  
  
  
I woke up and started to cry harder. Was my whole life going to be waking up alone and crying? But I deserved it. I shouldn't complain.  
And then he was there. An angel. My Angel. Holding me and warming me and loving me. And I didn't understand.  
I tried to wipe away some tears so I could get a better look at him. "Angel?" I whispered, terrified that breaking the silence would cause him to leave.  
"What is it? I'm here, Buffy. It's okay."  
"I ... I don't understand. How could you be? I ... I killed you." I whispered the last part.  
"No you didn't. I mean, technically, but ... but Willow. Willow did a spell. She brought me back. She hoped that when I came back, you would too. I mean, not from the dead, from wherever you had run off to. From here. I tracked you down and I found you and I'm here. I'm here, and I'm going to make you get well again, and you're going to be strong, and go back to Sunnydale and be the Slayer and we'll figure out our relationship then. I still love you, Buffy. Please, always remember that I love you." He spilled out.  
She let out a sob and traced a finger down my cheek. Oh God, how she felt. She touched me and I felt completely happy, completely alive.  
And then I sobered up. I couldn't ever be completely happy. Especially not with her.  
She whimpered a little. "What is it? What's wrong?" I asked, concern the only emotion in my eyes.  
"I just ... I've had this dream so many times and I don't know if it's real or not and I'm so scared that I'm going to wake up and you'll still be in Hell because it's all my fault and I killed you and I don't deserve you or anything or anybody and I'm so sorry and -"   
He put his fingers over her lips, quieting her. "It's okay, we can talk later. But you're sick and you have a fever. Try to get some sleep and I'm going to go out and get you some food and medicine, but I'll be back. I promise."  
I tried to tuck her in and she protested but was too tired to do anything else. I stroked her forehead until she fell asleep, and went out to get supplies.  
  
  
  
He came back, his arms loaded with things. He was having trouble balancing, and when he half fell over, I smiled. His eyes lit up when they saw that momentary smile.  
He gave up and just dropped his four bags on the floor. Digging through one, he trimphantly came out with a bottle of some kind of medication and two cartons of juice. I smiled again, noticing the types. Orange and grapefruit. That was my drink.  
He carefully measured out the parts and I smiled sleepily again. He smiled back. My eyes widened. I had so rarely seen him smile.  
He sat down next to the bed and handed me two of the pills, and I gave him a questioning look.  
"They'll make you stop throwing up, make your fever go down."  
He handed me the juice but I refused to drink it. "I don't feel good. I'm going to throw it up."  
"If you would just take the medicine, it wouldn't be a problem." he argued.  
I shook my head and suddenly my stomach lurched.  
"Buffy?"  
Bile rose up in my throat. I got up and tried to get to the bathroom but I started falling over. Angel scooped me up and carried me there.  
I started throwing up before we got there. I ruined his shirt. It was on his hands. My cheeks burned red from embarrassment. I tried to stop but I just felt worse and worse.  
He kneeled me down to the toilet and started pulling my hair back. I started to cry and he whispered sweet comforting words in my ear and stroked my back. I thought he was being sweet and I was grateful, but honestly, I was throwing up. He was embarrassing me.  
"Go away." I mumbled.  
"What?" He froze, obviously hurt.  
"Go away. I'm fine."   
"Oh ... Okay. I'm ... I'm sorry."  
I stole a glance at him as he got up and noticed the tears in his eyes.  
  
  
That stung. I had to admit. All I wanted was to help her. And, yeah, okay, ew. So my hands were covered in puke and my shirt smelled awful and she was sicker than a dog but I still loved her. I thought she loved me enough to let me in.   
She was probably just having a moment. Or I could have been crowding her too much. Hovering, acting like her mother. Yeah. She just wanted some alone time. Or maybe she wanted all alone time. But I wasn't going to leave her. Not until she told me to leave forever.  
I dragged the bags over to the tiny counter and dirty sink on the wall that was supposed to be a kitchen. Her fridge was empty. I wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten. And how she was throwing up if she hadn't eaten.   
I put a few things away and started to toast some bread in the microwave. No, not the best plan, but it was all she had. I put in some chicken noodle soup in next. Just as it was finishing, I heard Buffy's voice coming from the bathroom sounding terrified.  
  
  
"Angel?!" I called. I hadn't thrown up in 5 minutes and I figured I was done. More importantly, I had hurt Angel, and I needed to beg him to come back, to tell him I didn't really want him to leave. Only problem was, I was dizzy and having a hard time seeing anything or standing up.  
I leaned heavily against the wall closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to stop my shaking. When I opened them, I saw Angel rushing into the hallway, breathless, with worry written all over his face.  
"Buffy? Are you okay?" he asked as I started to slide down the wall. I was sitting by the time he had picked me up again.  
"Better?"  
"Yeah." I tried to give him a small smile. "Angel, what I said before, I ... I didn't mean it. I don't want you to go away. I need you here. Please stay. Please don't go." By now I was crying at the prospect of losing him and begging him with my eyes. "I love you too much ... I need you."  
He smiled brightly. Not even his little half-smile, or smirk, but a full-teeth, all-out beam. It made me smile too. I guess it's true. Smiles are contagious.  
"Wouldn't even think about it." He quieted me.  
"I'm still sorry. I was just ... embarrassed. I mean, I was throwing up. You didn't have to see or get dirty or anything and ... I don't know. Sorry."  
"It's okay, Buffy. I really don't mind. I love you and I want you to get better and I thought it would help if I was there ... and don't be embarrassed. Nothing you do could ever be embarrassing. Only beautiful."  
"Throwing up is beautiful?" I raised my eyebrows. He grinned, laid me on the bed, and left the room.  
It was weird. I felt so happy beucase he was there and helping me and loving me, and awful cause I was sick, and lonely. There was this hole in my heart that would never be filled unless he was right there, with his arms around me.  
Afriad he wouldn't come back, I started crying.  
  
  
I didn't want to leave her alone for long. She was so weak, unproctected, helpless. She needed me.   
But she needed food more.  
I burnt myself by spilling the soup and let out a curse in Gaelic. I hurriedly ran my hand under cool water and grabbed the bowl anyway, hand still smarting. When I went into her room, I wanted to kick myself for leaving her alone.  
She was crying. The poor thing was crying because I had left her alone.  
"Buffy! What's wrong?!" I set the soup on the floor because of the lack of bedside tables. I grabbed her shoulder and rolled her around so she was facing me and started wiping tears from her cheeks.  
"I thought ... if you had left ... for good ... I missed you." She tried to explain in a tiny voice.  
"I told you I wouldn't." I started to get exasperated. I couldn't leave the room without putting her in tears. She needed to know that I'd come back.  
"I know. Sorry." She mumbled quickly, dismissing the subject. She was so touchy with it.  
"Will you eat?" I offered her the soup. She immediately shook her head.  
"Please?"  
"No."  
"Buffy, honestly. You haven't eaten in weeks. You're throwing up stuff you DIDN'T eat. You're at an all-time low, you're sick, and I'm scared. If you're ever going to get better, you have to eat. Please." I held a spoonful of soup in front of her mouth. She gave me a tired look and opened her mouth, allowing me to feed her.  
Finally. I did something good for her.  
  
  
I was tired of arguing. I just gave in to him.  
He spooned me some soup. Damn. It was good soup. I was completely starved. He was right. The bowl was empty in a few minutes. He offered me some toast and I ate that, too.   
Yeah, I knew I was just going to throw it up. But I was too hungry to care.  
After the food I felt really, really sleepy. Angel tucked me in and watched over me as I tried to fall asleep. But I was too cold, too alone.   
"Angel? Could you ... would you ... hold me?" Oh. My. God. How could I?! He was going to say no, be mortified, be disgusted, be repulsed. I shot my eyes to my hands and tried to repress the redness that was coming to my cheeks.  
He smiled. He actually smiled. He walked around the bed, laying down and hugging me tightly. I relaxed in his embrace and amazingly, for the first time in two months, I fell asleep soundly without crying. 


	4. Conversation

Title: Conversation Series: Cry Author: Sarah K. Email: TwirlGirl2008@bolt.com Disclaimer: Joss's Timeline: After Becoming pt 2, kind of an alternate Anne Spoilers: Up to Becoming 2 Summary: Buffy's in really bad shape after Becoming part 2, living in LA, when suddenly Angel shows up. Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just email me. Feedback: PLEEEEEEEEASSEEEE! Rating: R  
  
*******  
  
I woke up and sniffled a little. I had to stop this dream stuff. I'd be going crazy soon. But not that I wasn't already ...  
  
I felt him shift and a huge smile spread across my face. I untangled myself from his arms and threw myself on top of him. I started kissing him desperately, little butterfly kisses all over his face, arms, neck, chest, anywhere. I loved him so much. He was here!  
  
"Wha ... What is it? Buffy?" He stared up at me, amazed at my behavior.  
  
"You're *kiss* here! With *kiss* me!" I giggled, suddenly giddy with happiness.  
  
"Of course! Do you think I would leave you?" He smiled at me, happy to see that I was happy.  
  
That put a damper on my mood. I felt I owed him an explanation. I didn't want to. Did I really have to?  
  
He looked up at me with pleasant but confused eyes.  
  
I had to.  
  
"Well ... I mean, I ... no, but after you being ... not you ... and then ... dead ... and ..." I choked back some tears and settled down on his chest. He visibly stiffened.  
  
"I swear, I won't ever leave you again. Honestly, I swear. I'd rather die than do this to you again. I love you." he seemed nervous, waiting for me, like I would say I didn't want him anymore, I didn't accept his apology. As if.  
  
"Right. I know, I just ... I don't know. I got scared. I love you too. I'm sorry." I tried to apologize, tried to smooth everything over.  
  
He gave me a sad smile and I accepted that. I settled on his chest and closed my eyes, deciding I wanted to sleep again.  
  
"More sleep?" he asked. I nodded.  
  
"How about I get you something to eat? Or ... how about a shower? Do you feel up to it?"  
  
"Okay." I sleepily agreed. He got up and pulled the covers off of me. God, it was so cold! I curled up in a ball and tried not to shiver. In a second, his arms were around me, cradling me and warming me, even though he was cold too. He picked me up, still curled in a ball, and carried me to the bathroom. He turned on a tap, set me down, and started towards the door.  
  
"Wh-Where are you going?" I asked, afraid to be alone. "You can't exactly shower with me in here." he grinned.  
  
"I don't want to be alone." I whispered quickly, not making eye contact.  
  
"How about I wait right outside the door?"  
  
I shook my head no. I knew I was being incredibly childish, that I would be fine alone. But still, the feeling I got when he left, it ate at me, like it wanted to kill me. "Please?"  
  
He gave a small sigh. Wait, what if he didn't want to? I mean, after we ... made love, ... I mean, who would ever want to see ME after THAT?!  
  
"It's okay. You don't have to." I swallowed hard and prepared myself for that strange hole-in-my-heart-type pain.  
  
"No, I'll stay if you want me to ..." he had a weird fear in his eyes.  
  
"Thank you." I gave him a small smile, and looked up at him, exactly like I did that night. Privacy. I needed it, and I didn't want to say so. The memory brought back pain. I was so shy, naive. I would let him stare at me every night for the rest of my life if he wanted to, no matter how embarrassed I felt. If he wanted it, I would let him have it.  
  
He turned around and I undressed. He had bought soap, my favorite shampoo, conditioner and bubble bath wherever he had gone shopping. I generously poured bubble bath into the water and the sweet smell made me dizzy.  
  
I started to fall but he scooped me up and lowered me into the tub, carefully averting his eyes the whole time. I shivered a little from the sudden warmth, and he kindly rubbed my back to calm me. He sat on the floor on the other side of the tub and started massaging my back and legs with the the soapy sponge.  
  
I laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of the warm water and Angel's touch.  
  
"I love you." he decided to break the silence.  
  
"I love you too." I replied. One question had been on my mind since I had gotten into the bath, but I was way too ashamed to ask it. But this was Angel, right? What could he possibly say?  
  
Well, okay. He could say some awful things. But he wouldn't, not to me, right?  
  
"Angel?" I asked in a small voice, closing my eyes.  
  
"Yeah?" "Umm ... can we ... um, talk?"  
  
"Of course." He massaged my toes and made me giggle, lightening the mood for about a tenth of a second.  
  
"Um ... that night ... when we ... um ... you know ... the night after ... what you, um, said ... it was true, wasn't it?" I lowered my eyes to my hands, which were nervously wringing.  
  
"What?" He was confused. Great, now I actually had to say it.  
  
"Um ... you um, said that ... I was awful, that I ... um ... had a lot to learn about ... men? I guess? And I ... um ... you meant it, didn't you?" I couldn't bring myself to look at him. He had stopped massaging my back. Bad, bad sign. He remained silent for a few minutes, and then made a weird noise. I don't even know what it was. Like a sob, maybe, but there was a frustrated scream in there, and an angry grunt kind of thing, and his voice broke halfway through it. Fabulous, now I was making him sound like a caveman.  
  
"I'm sorry. I, um, you don't have to say anything."  
  
"Oh God, Buffy. I forgot. I forgot about that." He was crying. I finally get the courage to look up at him, and he's crying, and then I decide to die. I slid down the edge of the tub and beneath the water, deciding that if I drowned, he'd be happier.  
  
He stared at me through the water, his face blurry. His eyes widened and he yelled my name, trying to pull me up. I shook my head no, but he finally brought me up and I gasped for air through some sobs.  
  
"I'm sorry I was bad. I'm sorry I wasn't what you wanted. I'm so sorry I don't have experience and I can't give you everything and I'm sorry that I sent you to Hell and that I was awful to you and it's all my fault and God, please don't cry! Please!" I screamed, begging him to stop. I couldn't see him cry. I couldn't.  
  
"Buffy!" He screamed. "What the Hell are you trying to do?!?" He shook my shoulders violently and I tried to pull away. He was acting too closely to Angelus, even if it was out of concern, even if it was my fault for freaking out.  
  
I was huddled in the corner of the tub away from the wall that separated us, afraid to move or to say anything.  
  
"Buffy," He began quietly, unsure of me and himself and ... well ... probably everything. "I'm sorry for shaking you and yelling, I'm not mad, just upset. Why were you crying? And why were you holding yourself under water? For God's sake, Buffy, I need you, you can't go and drown yourself!"  
  
"I ... Okay, I'm going to get everything out in one big long speech and you're not going to interrupt me. Got it?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I asked you what you thought of me the night we made love. And you didn't really say anything; you just made this weird noise. I took it as bad, because I'm really, really, incredibly touchy on the whole subject, and honestly, I have good reason to be. And I feel so bad about everything, about being bad when we're ... um ... in bed, about killing you, sending you to Hell, wanting to kill you the whole time you were evil, still loving you the whole time you were evil, being sick now, ruining your life now, not being able to make love to you, not being able to do anything. I know it's my fault. And I know you don't blame me because you're too good to do that and you think it's your entire fault, but deep in our hearts we both know, it was me to begin with. I'm in a really yucky mood and your little noise thing set me off. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I'm sick of saying sorry. But I don't know what else to say, I don't know how to make it up to you. I can't miraculously learn how to have decent sex and be beautiful and polite and correct and smart and everything *else* you should have. So I thought that maybe you would be happier if I just ... died. I don't even understand why you're here now because if I were you, I'd never want to see me again. I'm glad you're here, I would just die if you weren't, and I'm sorry for that too. Sorry that I'm so dependent. Sorry that I love you. Sorry that you're this beautiful, knowledgeable, graceful, caring, kind and loving person and I can't return any of that to you." I didn't even cry. I was downright proud of myself. I just warily picked my eyes up, from my hands to his face, his beautiful face, which was now a mixture of emotions, and then to his eyes, which were even more emotion filled.  
  
"I ... I ..." He shook his head, speechless. Ha, I guess it's true. Everything is possible. I made *Angel* gawk.  
  
He pulled me to him and crushed my wet body to his, weeping and murmuring words of love to me. Was it because I made him happy or sad? I don't know. Whatever. He didn't seem upset in a mad way anymore.  
  
******  
  
She was SUCH a hypocrite. She had just said that she wasn't good in bed, beautiful, smart, and loving. All of which she has so much of.  
  
She said she loved me. She had told me she loved me, even when I was evil. She said I had hurt her.  
  
Oh my God. I had hurt her.  
  
"I ... I ..." I tried to say something, but my tongue was temporarily not functioning. I cried. I had hurt her, so much. I had hurt my beautiful, loving, beloved Buffy. The need for contact with her soft skin overcame me and I reached out, gently bringing her to me. She was shivering as usual, wet with cold water that soaked throguh my clothes, but I didn't care. I hugged her so tightly that I think she would have suffocated if it weren't for her slayer abilities.  
  
"I love you, you know that. You *are* beautiful. So beautiful, I've never seen anything more beautiful. You're smart, smarter than me. You're young and carefree and loving and free and kind and I love you so much. Please don't blame yourself. Please, stop all of the guilt. You're too young to have it. Forget about it, give it to me, anything. You can't ruin your life like this." I whispered in her ear.  
  
She gave me a small, soft, sweet smile. I emptied the bathtub and started to re-fill it with warm water so we could get her clean. She crawled onto the floor and curled up to keep warm. I reached out to hug her but then I realized I wouldn't help, I would just make her colder, and so I wrapped a blanket around her instead.  
  
"Afraid to hug me?" She teased.  
  
"I would love to, but I'd make you colder." I said sadly, staring at the half full bathtub.  
  
"Never gonna happen." She crawled into my lap and curled up there. I instinctively wrapped my arms around her and she smiled. After getting into the tub and washing herself, all with me watching, and yes, she let me watch, before you start to ask, I started to massage her back again.  
  
"You know, I've never been happier with another woman." I whispered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"In bed. You're not awful. You're young, sure, but I love you so much more than any other woman I was ever with. And no other woman has ever been like you. What I said, when I was evil, it was a lie. Everything was. You know that, right?"  
  
She looked up at me with these huge hopeful eyes. Like a little puppy dog, about to be taken home from the pound. "Really? You mean it? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"  
  
"I really mean it. I love you." I dropped a kiss on her crown before drying her off with a fluffy towel. She gave me this huge, grateful smile.  
  
"Thank you, so much." She said.  
  
"For what?" I casually asked.  
  
"For everything? For coming back, for loving me, for taking care of me." "Any time." I smiled, and picked her up before carrying her to her room. I sat her on the chair and quickly changed her sheets into the new ones I had bought.  
  
She walked over to them, ran her fingers along them, inhaled their clean scent, and laid down on them. "Satin?! You bought me satin sheets?!"  
  
"Of course, only the best." I gave her a warm smile, but she already had her eyes closed and was half asleep. I tucked her in and gave her a quick kiss before leaving the room.  
  
******  
  
"Angel?!" He wasn't there. He wasn't here! "ANGEL?!"  
  
No, wait. He promised he wouldn't leave me. He swore. He was in a different room or something. He had to be. Right. So. Sleep.  
  
But I couldn't. As usual. What was my problem? Anyway, I would just get up quickly, go into the kitchen, make sure he was okay, maybe eat some of those nifty Apple Cinnamon Cheerios he had bought ... How could I have missed those when I was a kid? They were awesome!  
  
Anyway, I quietly crept into the kitchen and there he was, sure as day, or in his case, night, staring into a mug of blood. He gave it a disgusted look before bringing it to his lips and quickly draining it.  
  
When he brought it back down, I jumped back. He had morphed into game face, and it just surprised me. It didn't really bother me. I mean, he was beautiful, fangs or no. I love him. I always will. But it brought back memories ... unpleasant ones. Ones I never wanted.  
  
"Buffy?" His head whipped in my direction. His yellow eyes widened before they squeezed shut and he forced himself to change back.  
  
"Hi." I whispered.  
  
"Sorry." He cleared his throat.  
  
"It's okay." I smiled reassuringly. "Do you want more? Do you ... want me to leave?"  
  
"No!" He blurted too quickly. "Um, no, it's, it's okay. Do you need something?"  
  
I smiled. "Food? Food would be good."  
  
"Of course. What do you want?" "Anything. I think I'm gonna die I'm so hungry." he shuddered immediately, and I grew concerned. "What?"  
  
"Don't even think that, Buffy. I couldn't handle it ... I - It would be all my fault because I didn't feed you and ... just don't. Please. It hurts."  
  
Aww. How sweet was that? But still. I didn't want him to be sad!  
  
"It won't happen. I promise. I'll stay here as long as you want me to. Okay?" I slipped my arms around is waist, trying to comfort him. It seemed perfectly natural.  
  
He jumped back a little.  
  
"What is it now?" I asked quietly, a little frustrated.  
  
"Oh, it's ... it's not you, it's just ... it's been so long since someone showed physical affection. In Hell, it seems like ... nothing." He abruptly shook his head. "Nevermind." He wrapped his arms back around me.  
  
"No, you can tell me. Go ahead." I prompted quietly.  
  
"I ... um ... Hell was ... Hell. You don't need to hear about it." He put on a resolved face, and I knew to give up. Those doors weren't going to be opened today, and they weren't going to be opened for a while. And that was fine. I respected his privacy, his comfortableness, everything. I respected him so much. Whatever he needed.  
  
"Okay." I nodded my head. "Food? Please? And a chair, before I fall over, I feel kinda weak ..." I trailed off, wandering over to the table.  
  
"Want anything specific?"  
  
"Um ... Do you have eggs?"  
  
"Yep." He gave me a half smile and set to scrambling some eggs.  
  
Just then I heard a ringing. Like ... almost like the ringing of a cell phone. But, yeah right, because when I had enough money for food, then I would think about money for clothes and a million other things before a cell phone. A cell would be, like, 45 years at the Diner from now.  
  
But Angel, Angel of all people, pulled a cell out of his pocket, as if he had used one since the 1700's. But that wasn't what amazed me. What he said to the person on the other line was wayyy more mind-blowing.  
  
"Hey, Giles. How are you?" 


	5. The Past Is Present

I held in a smirk when I saw her face. Fish Out of Water. I exchanged a few more pleasantries with Giles, and then took the phone in the other room so Buffy didn't eavesdrop.  
  
"You - You found her?!"   
  
"Yep." I smiled.  
  
"That ... Well, I ... Um ... That's incredible!! How is she?" The friendly Watcher got excited.  
  
"Well, actually, she's in pretty bad shape. Sick, tired, I guess she was really torn up about the whole sending-me-to-Hell-thing, which I REALLY don't blame her for. She's getting better though." I explained briefly.  
  
"Right. So, are you planning to move her back to Sunnydale?"  
  
"Right now, I don't think she's ready. But we're working on it." I noticed how silent she was in the kitchen, and got a little worried. "Look, Giles, I'll call you later, when she's asleep or something. Tell everyone that I found her, and that she's okay."  
  
I hung up without saying good-bye, and went into the kitchen. "Buffy?"  
  
"You ... You're ... Giles?" She whispered. Her face got pale, and her hands trembled.   
  
"Yeah. That was Giles. He misses you and hopes you feel better ..." I said in a soothing voice. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Giles." She let the word roll off of her tongue as if it was part of a foreign language. And then she burst into tears.  
  
"Baby, what is it? Buffy? Come on, tell me. It's okay." I whispered in her ear, my arms enclosing her. I wished so much that I could just take all of this pain away. It was killing her. Hurting my beautiful Buffy.  
  
"Giles!" She sobbed. "And ... and Xander! Oh my god, Xander. I'm so sorry Xander. I love you." Okay, yeah, I felt a little pang there. And then anger. How could I be jealous of Xander Harris when my baby was so upset? "Willow. Willow! I still love you! I'm so sorry, God, so sorry! I got you hurt! and Jenny!" she yelled everything until here, but finally she quieted. "Jenny ..." she whispered.  
  
I dropped her. I actually dropped my baby on the floor. But I couldn't help it. Jenny. Nobody had really mentioned her when I came back from Hell. Not even Giles. They helped me, so much. Maybe if not for me, then for Buffy. They wanted me to find her and me to bring her back.  
  
When I returned, I was in awful shape. Besides being physically sick, I was basically an animal. They nursed me back to health, gave me my senses, reminded me constantly of Buffy.  
  
But they never mentioned Jenny.  
  
I think they might have been trying to repress. But now that Buffy brought back the memory, it hurt. It hurt terribly.  
  
The look on her face before I killed her. The way I taunted her. How I set everything up for Giles. The look on *his* face. Buffy's face. Willow, sobbing in Joyce's arms. Giles' rage towards me, trying to kill me. I was SUCH a monster.  
  
Tears were falling freely down my face. I let out some desperate sobs and looked around the room, not knowing what to do with myself. These people seemed to have forgiven me, but I haven't forgiven myself.  
  
My eyes rested on Buffy. She lay on the floor, dejected, exactly where I had dropped her. She was still mumbling names under her breath and crying, but she had calmed down, feeling abandoned.   
  
"Buffy ..." I said sadly. "I'm sorry."  
  
I kneeled down on the floor next to her.  
  
"Sorry for what? She asked in a broken voice. "It's my fault you turned. If I hadn't gone and forced you into sleeping with me you never would have gone evil, never would have killed Jenny, never would have gone to Hell. God, if I weren't such a bitch I wouldn't have knocked you down in that alley and you would have never have had to meet me!" she said, staring tearily at the floor.   
  
"No, Buffy. No." I didn't even try to tell her that none of that was true. I wasn't feeling up to it. I needed comfort too. "I love you. I'm so happy that I have you now. I love you."   
  
I pulled her up by her arm and we hobbled into the bedroom together, crying. We collapsed onto the bed in each other's arms, trying to soothe ourselves and each other at the same time.  
  
It didn't really work.  
  
******  
  
I woke up and the first thing I noticed was my damp hair and shirt. I rolled over a little and saw Angel, tears rolling down his face even in his sleep. I ran a hand through his silky hair and brushed some tears from his cheek.  
  
I was pretty shaken. Besides being at the point of complete mental breakdown, Angel was almost there with me. Angel, the strong one. Angel, my anchor, the hand that pulled me from my lowest points. Angel.  
  
His eyes fluttered open because of my motions. Again something bad happened to him because of me.  
  
I pulled my hand out of his hair and mumbled "Sorry."  
  
He smiled a sad smile. "Can we try to not say sorry every second word?"  
  
"Okay." I agreed. I still didn't know if he had forgiven me. He never really said "I forgive you, Buffy," or told me that he didn't mind, he just said, "No, Buffy, no." What the hell did that mean? Absolutely nothing.   
  
Or probably something. Something bad.  
  
He ran his fingers down my bare arm as if I was something sacred that he was not allowed to touch. A smile played in the corners of his mouth and I didn't say anything. I jsut let him be happy and comfortable for once because he probably didn't get comfort or happiness many other times, living with me.  
  
"Want that food I was going to cook you before?" He asked, still staring at me.  
  
"Sure." He climbed out of bed and I debated whether or not to go with him, but feeling a little pooped, I stayed in bed.  
  
I heard him clunking around in the kitchen and I closed my eyes, wondering what he was cooking.  
  
When I opened them, I shrieked.  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOI-" His hand clamped over my mouth before I got a chance to finish screaming. Please let Angel have heard that much. Oh God, please. I thought over and over. But what were the odds? He was cooking pretty loudly, the door was closed, and I had only yelped.  
  
"Shut up you bitch!" He whispered violently. "Who do you think you are? Telling me Dru will escape, be fine and dandy, and then you send some vampires after us? To *kill* her?! To KILL my DRU?!" And with that, Spike's fist came flying down onto my jaw. 


	6. Surprises

I honestly didn't think about myself getting hurt. It didn't matter that much. I was thinking about Angel.  
  
What would he think? Would he be mad at me for somehow letting Spike into my motel room? Was he hurt? Was he okay?  
  
And then I thought about Spike. Okay, seriously, maybe I missed something. What happened to the whole Going-To-Africa-Never-Gonna-See-Ya-Again riff? And why was he back here pounding in my face, mumbling about Drusilla and a group of vamps?  
I was completely lost.I tried to get up and fight back or get out of the way, but I was having a hard time. He was super-charged, a hatred-filled venom coursing through him. Plus, I wasn't one hundred percent and moving slower than usual.  
  
"I *know* it was YOU who sent those vamps after us. Bloody didn't believe us, thought we were'nt good enough to tell the truth that we were leaving. Bloody Hell! you KILLED her!" He screamed.  
  
And then a quite frazzled Angel burst through the door.  
  
Thank God, he's okay.  
  
******  
  
I didn't know what happened.  
  
Second one, I was in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and pouring juice.  
  
Second two, I hear yelling.  
  
Second three, I'm in Buffy's room, watching *Spike* pound on my beautiful beloved.  
  
Second four, he's totally vanished.   
  
He must have learned some kind of magic. I know for a fact that vampires *do not* do that. Where did he learn magic? Why was he here? That could have quite the potential for danger. Spike and magic. I shuddered at the thought.  
  
I shuddered more at the sight of Buffy. She lay mangled on the floor in a defeated, tired heap. She had a few different bruises and a couple cuts marred her face. I kneeled down next to her and gently rubbed my hand along her exposed neck.  
  
"Angel?"   
  
"What is it, baby? What just happened? Are you okay? Are you in any pain?" I asked in a rush, panicked.  
  
"I'm ... I think I'm okay. Just some ..." She tried to get up, winced, and fell back down. I winced in turn at the cracking noise her head made against the floor. "... bruises."  
  
"Come on. I'll get the first-aid kit. Or do you need an ambulance?"   
  
"Angel, seriously, I'm okay. Stop freaking out and acting like my mom. You're annoying." She snapped.  
  
"Oh ... Um, okay ... I ... do you want me to leave you alone?" I asked. Why did I always have to be irritating? I was hovering. Overprotective. Annoying, like she said. I swallowed back some tears of anger at myself and let go of her arm, getting up."I'll ... be in .. the kitchen ... I have stuff ... I'll do it ..."   
  
"No, Angel." She shook her head and sighed. "I'm a little on edge." She lifted up her arm and winced. I shook my head and tried to push her arm down where it was comfortable, but she also murmured a "No," and kept pushing, so I let her go. She traced her fingers down my cheek and I smiled. "You know I'll always want you. I love you. And ... And if something like this ever does happen, and you're not here to rescue me, and I ... well, something happens, you'll know I love you, that I always will, even after I die. Right? You'll know that and remember it, for me?" She comforted both of us.  
  
"Of course I know that. I just want you to be happy. Even if it means breaking my heart. And I won't ever have to remember it, because you're always gonna be here to tell me. Always. I would die if you weren't." I leaned over and picked her up, carrying her to her room.   
  
"Aren't I too heavy to carry everywhere?" She giggled. I wondered briefly how she could laugh and make jokes when something serious was going on, and then I remembered that it was just another one of the reasons I love her.  
  
"You? You skinny, short, pathetic little mouse?" I teased her and ruffled her hair.  
  
"Hey!" She beamed, pretending to be offended. She tried to jump out of my arms but I held her tightly, tickling her sides.  
  
"Angel!" She squealed, trying to make me stop. "ANGEL! Angelangelangelangelangel!!!!!" I refused to stop, loving and enjoying her wide and carefree smile.  
  
She finally wriggled free and jumped out of my arms. Unfortunately, her sore muscles didn't appreciate it and she immediately cried out in pain. My eyes widened and I scooped her back up, hurrying to her room and being completely serious, mad at myself for causing her more pain. I gently laid her on the bed and grabbed some towels, peroxide, and ice from the bathroom.  
  
I rolled up her shirt and tended to a bruised rib. She watched my motions carefully, as if there was something to be worried about.  
  
"Are my fingers and some ice really that interesting?" I asked.  
  
"No ... I just ... thought ... nothing. I thought nothing." She looked away.  
  
"Buffy, what is it? You can tell me. I don't care what it is, you can tell me." I was satisfied with her bruise that had stopped swelling underneath the ice, a sign of no breakage. I looked up at her with honest, loving eyes and saw her uncomfortableness. "It's okay, love. You can tell me.  
  
"I thought ... well, at first, I thought you were hurt. And I was so worried. And then you came in, and I was relieved. But ... but now ... I thought ... that maybe ... you might not want to ... probably ... shouldn't live here, with me, if ... if you're gonna be in danger or -" Her voice cracked and tears slipped down her cheeks. "I just want you to be safe and happy ... and if that means leaving me, then I guess ..."  
  
My hand flew to her mouth, quieting her, "*Never*. You're crazy. I would never leave you because it was too dangerous for me. If it's dangerous for me then it's dangerous for you, and if ANYTHING *EVER* endangers you, I want to be here to make it go away. I will NEVER leave you. I promised you that, remember?"  
  
She nodded through her trembling.   
  
"It's okay, baby. Stop shaking, don't be afraid. Stop crying. It's okay, I'll make everything be safe and happy. Come on, please stop crying ..." I begged her, rocking her terrified body.  
  
"I was ... I was more afraid of you being hurt or you not wanting me anymore than I was of Spike ... But now, now ... now I'm afraid of Spike too." She admitted.  
  
"I know, I know. If he does come back, he won't be able to lay a hand on you. I'll be there first. I'm so sorry I wasn't there, wasn't quicker, but I swear I will be next time." She smiled up at me feebly.   
  
"Thank you." She whispered.   
  
"Of course." I stole a glance at the clock on the wall. "How are you feeling?"   
  
"Okay, I guess ... The Slayer thing is kicking in, making me a little stronger ... and you've helped so much ..." She smiled up at me again.  
  
"Do you think that after I finish cleaning you up you could walk down the street? We could order some Chinese and bring it back, but I don't want to leave you here alone. Seeing as every time I try to cook we get distracted ..." I suggested, grinning.  
  
"Sure." She grinned back through tear-stained cheeks.  
  
******  
  
"How can you still want to be with me?!" I asked, quite panicked.  
  
"Because I love you ... What's wrong?" Angel burst into the bathroom.  
  
"I look *awful*! I look like a *thing* and you still want to be here?!" I stared at myself in the mirror disgustedly.  
  
"You look ... okay, not Miss America-worthy, but honey, you were sick. Do you really expect to look like some kind of movie star after everything you went ... everything I put you through?" He reasoned.  
  
Everything he *put* me through? So not true. This was all my fault. We both knew it.  
  
"You didn't put me through anything. It's no one's fault but mine. And ... well, no, not movie star ... but I can't even look at myself. How can *you* look at me?" I grinned and looked up at him.  
  
"I could look at you for the rest of an eternity even if you looked four hundred times worse." He grinned back and wrapped his arms around my waist, staring at me through the mirror and planting a kiss on my crown. Aww, how sweet was that? He can make me feel like some kind of goddess no matter how I look or what kind of mood I'm in.  
  
I smiled at him and then shooed him out of the bathroom, setting to work. I opened the bag I had brought from Sunnydale and found some lipstick and blush that I had packed but not used in a long time. I pulled out some foundation, lip gloss, and eye-shadow that I had bought at a small store two blocks away when I found my old ones ran out ... it had been so long ago, before I was really sick, but still crying and shaking everywhere. I had given up on make-up when I realized I was trembling too much to apply it.  
  
I leaned over the sink and piled the make-up on, remembering how much fun Willow and I used to have doing each other's faces in outrageous colors and designs.   
  
I ran a brush through my tangled hair the best I could, using some water to get the knots out. I piled it on top of my head like I used to, keeping Angel's favorite styles in mind. I opened the closet that I used for my cothes because of the lack of closet in my bedroom and pulled out a light blue tank top and flared jean capris. Simple but fun. After those and some running sneakers were on, I stepped out and found Angel waiting worriedly right outside the door.  
  
"What took you so - Oh. Oh, Buffy, you look wonderful!" He smiled.  
  
"No I don't." I laughed. "But I look much better than I have in a while ... some food and sleep would also do wonders. This make-up is just covering the bags and lines around my eyes ..." I remarked. He grabbed my hand anyway and dragged me out the door.  
  
We laughed and joked all the way to the Chinese restaurant. It was almost like old times ... before the havoc and heartbreak. It was bittersweet ... I knew that we'd never exactly have it like it was before Angel lost his soul, but I was so thrilled to at least have this much, to forget for a little while about my entire life.  
  
The place was pretty much deserted, except for one lonely looking girl at a table next to the windows. Upon looking closer, I realized I knew her.  
  
"Carrie?!" I exclaimed. She looked up at me and then her eyes widened.   
  
"Buffy?!"   
  
"Hey!" I squealed. "How are you? What's been going on at work?" I hurried over to her table and sat down, happy to see a friend.  
  
"It's been almost a week! Where have you been?" She inquired. Carrie was nice to me. She had always been. When I had first come to L.A. she noticed my depressed state and had tried to comfort me while trying not to intrude. She never asked too many questions, just held me while I cried. She was pretty, an Asian girl with long, silky straight and dark brown hair that reminded me of Angel's if she had cut it in his style. Her almond-shaped eyes were always compassionate. She often took some of my tables and still let me have the tip if I was behind or feeling under the weather. I was SO eternally grateful.  
  
"Sick. Very sick. But I'm getting better!"   
  
"Ohmigosh, are you okay? How have you been getting better?" She asked worriedly.  
  
"Oh! That's the best part! Angel has been -! Oh! Oh, um, Angel?" I kicked myself ... mentally, I mean. I had just left Angel standing there! How much more of an insensitive jerk could I be?  
  
"What's going on?" He smiled a small smile as he made his way over to the table. I could tell he felt alien and unwanted - basically forgotten.   
  
"I'm sorry, Angel, this is Carrie, Carrie, this is Angel. You know, *the* Angel ..." I had talked to Carrie about Angel once or twice, but lying, telling her I had betrayed and hurt him and he had to leave because of me. Pretty much the same scenario. All of that was true, except ... well ... the highly unbelievable supernatural stuff.  
  
"Oh ... Ohhhhh!" Her eyes widened ever larger. "But ... but how ... did ... I ... oh! Um ... Hi, Angel!" She babbled but then came to her senses. "Do you guys wanna ... um, please join me?"  
  
"Sure." I smiled and grabbed Angel's hand, pulling him down with us.  
  
"How have things been at the Diner?" I asked. I knew Angel felt out of the loop so I kept holding his hand, stroking it and giving him - hopefully - what looked like loving looks. He gave me grateful smiles from time to time and I didn't feel completely awful ... just really awful.  
  
"Oh, it's a complete madhouse. Remember Marty? That cook guy that was really grouchy? Well he quit, and then Fred complained about not having enough cookers and supposedly Lynn had to pay him more to keep him on because he had extra work or something ... and now they're trying to teach Rick how to cook but it's not going so well ... and we miss you too! We need you there! We have no one to cover your tables. But ... um ... I think ..." Her face turned a little guilty. "I think if you come back, it might be just to get your last check. Lynn is pretty intent on firing you. She says you have no right to take a week off for no reason and ... well, I mean, we tried to argue but I think it just made it worse. Sorry. Brielle says sorry too."  
  
"Hey, it's okay. Thank you guys so much. I'm sorry it's been so crazy ..." I kept my cool on but inside, I felt my whole stomach cave in. Oh my God. What was I going to do?  
  
Angel got up and returned with a big bag full of Chinese food cartons. I smiled at Carrie, gave her Angel's cell number, and told her to keep in touch.  
  
I was pretty quiet the whole way home, mulling over my situation.  
  
If I was fired, then no income. I had already missed a week of work, and that week was pretty crucial with this month's payment. I figured I could probably scrape by if I buttered up my landlord. But if I got fired and had to take the timne it took to find a new job, I'd have no money, and get kicked out for sure. So where was I miraculously going to get money from?  
  
Angel dropped the bag on the table and I sunk into a chair, leaning my elbows on the table and holding my head in my hands. I moaned and rubbed my eyes.  
  
"What's wrong, baby?" He asked, sitting down next to me. He took my head and started gently massaging my temples.  
  
"I ... If I get fired ... then ... there's no way I can pay rent. I'm cutting it close by missing this week, I don't know where I'm suddenly going to find that kind of money ... I just don't know." I sighed.  
  
"Buffy, do you want to stay here ... in this ... kind of ... dirty ... motel? I mean, if you like it here, and you came here because you wanted to, fine, that's great, but I don't really think you want to be here." He asked softly.  
  
"Well, no! Of course not! Why would I want to live *here*? I just ..." My voice quieted. "I didn't have enough money to go anywhere else." I looked down, ashamed. I had never had money problems before. This was completely new, and I didn't really want to admit it to Angel. I wanted to seem more perfect than I was.  
  
"Right. So would it be such a tragedy if you did leave?"  
  
"No ... why?" I looked up. What was he getting at?  
  
"Do you want to? Let's leave. We'll go somewhere else, somewhere nicer." He smiled slighlty. Oh yeah, like that was an option. He was crazy! And ... actually, pretty insensitive. I had just *told* him that I *couldn't* afford anything else. My cheeks got even redder and I looked down again.  
  
"I can't, you know that." I mumbled. "Could we just not? It's kind of uncomfortable for me and I don't want to burden you with my stupid problems ..."   
  
"Didn't I tell you that I'd take care of you, baby?" He lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to make eye contact. "Don't worry and don't be uncomfortable or embarrassed. You know you can tell me *anything*, and I won't be mad or ashamed or upset. I love you. And I *will* take care of you. You don't have to worry about money. I have money, enough to cover us both. We can move to wherever you want. A big mansion on the hills, a beach house, whatever, you name it, it's yours. If it makes you happy."   
  
I let his words sink it a little. Was he serious? Well, yeah, why wouldn't he be? But he was crazy. Even more than before. Where would he get that kind of money? And why would he want to spend it on me?  
  
Oh ... well, I mean, for the same reason I would give my life up for him. Because he loves me.  
  
"Oh ... I ... I don't know what to say ... I mean, thank you! Thank you so much! I love you!" I smiled.   
  
"Of course, you're always welcome. I love you too." He took my head and kissed my eyelashes before setting to opening each of the Chinese cartons, inspecting what was inside. After a little thinking he piled some food on a plate and handed it to me.  
  
"All of your favorites - I think." He said. I looked down and sure enough, all of my favorite dishes were there.  
  
"How did you know?" I smiled, delighted that he cared enough to find out.  
  
"I noticed your mom ordering once, and on the menu she uses every time she has your favorites circled in blue and hers in red. I mean, not that I sit around ordering Chinese with your mom, I saw through the window ..." He explained.  
  
"And you remembered?" I asked through a mouthful of lo mein.  
  
"I remember every stupid little thing about you. You're in my system." He dropped a kiss on my crown before sitting down across from me, watching me eat. That was a little odd. I had never just been *watched* when I ate. I felt a little self-concious and decided to say something before I thought.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat or are you just going to sit there *staring* at me?" I asked in a harsher tone than I had intended.  
  
"Sorry, I like watching you." He replied quickly. Then his features turned a little sullen. "And I doubt you'd want to see me eat the way I do ..." he stared into space, a little hurt.  
  
Moron.  
  
"Oh, God Angel, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stomp all over you ... but you know what?" He looked up. "I wouldn't mind watching you eat. You think I have this big thing that your blood drinking is disgusting. Yeah, I admit, when I first saw it, my stomach did a little wig. But, I mean, when I thought about it ... if that's what you need to be here and healthy, then that's what you need. It's food to you. So what it's not food to me? I really don't mind. Not anymore. I love you too much to mind." I gave him an encouraging smile.  
  
He was silent and then he returned my smile. "When did you get so wise?"   
  
"Since I found you. Go get something to eat. You haven't eaten in a while, I know that." He didn't move even after my request. "Please? For me?"  
  
He still refused. I pushed my plate forward, dropping my fork next to it. "Fine. I won't eat until you do."  
  
"No, Buffy." His eyes got angry. "You need it so much more than I do."  
  
"I don't. I'm fine." I grew angry too. "You also need it. Go get it." I insisted, my face resolved.  
  
He gave me an exasperated look and finally got up, opening the fridge. I hadn't noticed the one container of blood he had stored away from my food in the empty vegetable crisper.  
  
He poured it in a glass and gave me an angry look, but I didn't care. He had to eat too.  
  
He closed his eyes and took a sip, morphing into game face. When he went to put it back down, though, his instinct and hunger got the best of him, and he ended up gulping the whole thing down, grabbing the container and drinking that. He made ugly growling and slurping noises while he was drinking. When he finally brought the container down, there was blood all over his teeth and face.  
  
He noticed me and turned around quickly, forcing himself to change back and hastily wiping the blood away.   
  
"*That* is why I don't like to eat in front of you, *that* is why I feel unworthy of you. Because I'm am animal." He spat. "Finish eating." He waved his hand at my plate and then headed for the bedroom. I sighed, mad with myself for forcing him to do something he didn't want to do. I was so immature and insensitive sometimes!   
  
I ate half of the plate and threw the rest out, sticking the cartons in the fridge. It had been half an hour since Angel had stormed out. I knew I had been getting more and more disgusted with myself, but I hoped Angel was being mature and had cooled off.  
  
I opened the door and found him sleeping on the bed. I quietly slipped out of my tank top and capris, folding them and placing them near the door to remind myself to wash them tomorrow. I slipped into Angel's oversized shirt that I had taken from the mansion after I killed him and usually slept in before climbing into the bed with Angel.  
  
"How was your Chinese?" He asked bitterly. I jumped, surprised at the noise. I had figured he was alseep.  
  
"It was fine, thanks." I replied coolly. I didn't want to deal with a pissed Angel right now. Even if it was my fault. I was tired. "You know what? I'm just gonna go ... be ... away." I figured I could sleep on the couch. Wait, I didn't have a couch. Okay, floor. Whatever.  
  
I grabbed a pillow abut left the blanket for Angel and when my left foot was already out the door, I heard my name.  
  
"Buffy?" his voice sounded so small and upset, it actually made me wince.  
  
"What is it, Angel?" I asked softly, compassionately.  
  
"I ... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't go. I never meant to ..." He tried to apologize. But by the first word my heart had shattered and I was on my way back to the bed.  
  
I jumped on top of him and wrapped my arms around him. I had hated being mad at him, even if it only was for less than an hour. It had made me bitter, made me ache, made me sad. Mental note: *Never* be mad at Angel.  
  
"I'm sorry too." I gave him a long, hard kiss. He drew back in surprise. We hadn't kissed that way since ... since the night I lost my virginity to him. He soon jumped into the rhythm and we kissed for a good ten minutes before I felt dizzy with a huge lack of oxygen and had to pull away.  
  
I fell back on to the bed, thinking of the kiss as I gasped for air. My God, no one could make me feel that way except for him. He made me see stars, made my blood boil, my body feel electric, my mind feel beautiful and special and precious. He was so gentle, yet so excited and in a good way, aggressive. He let me be not perfect, let me explore, let me try new things. He loved me for exactly who I was, and kissed me with all of that love.  
  
He rolled over next to me and stared at me as if I was something extraordinary. As if. I wish. He ran a gentle, trembling hand along my jawbone and he smiled a completely content smile, making my heart flutter.  
  
"You're not an animal." I whispered. "You're anything but. You're an angel.*My* Angel. I would never think you were ugly or disgusting or a monster, you know that. I told you that I didn't care about the blood and I still don't. I'm sorry I forced you, but you need to eat as much as me."   
  
"I know. I know all of that. But it's hard to understand and believe sometimes."  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.  
  
"I ... No one's ever shown me this kind of love before. No one has ever regarded me as anything less than an animal. Even when I was a alive, I was a drunk, the town bicycle, everyone had a ride. But you ... you treat me like a man, like an equal, like ... like even more than an equal. It's just ... different. But I love it. I love you." He bent his head and kissed my shoulder.  
  
I gave a happy murmur. "I could use a little sleep ..."  
  
"Yeah ..." He replied, wrapping his arms around my waist tentatively. "Can you sleep with me here?" He asked.  
"I sleep *better* with you here." I curled up and wrapped my arms on top of his. He even went so far as to curl his legs up around mine.  
  
Feeling safe and happy with all issues aside, I cuddled with Angel and listened to his not necessary but still there breathing.  
  
It had been a night of surprises. From seeing Carrie, to finding out about being fired, to fighting with Angel, and now to making up, I was pretty much drained. But something else was coming.  
  
******  
  
I woke up to a cold bed. Angel was gone.   
  
I sat up and looked around, calling his name. I got no answer.  
  
I walked looked into the kitchen and bathroom and when I didn't see him, I started to panic. I found a note on the kitchen floor.  
  
Buffy -   
I heard a noise and now I'm writing this before  
  
I love you. If something happens, don't wait for me to   
I love you so much. A.  
  
The last part was scribbled in haste, more so than the rest of the note. Tears slipped down my face. I turned the note over, noticing a different handwriting there.  
  
  
How sweet. Too bad you'll never see him again. 


	7. Reactions

I decided to panic. What *else* was I supposed to do? I didn't know what to do. I probably never will, either. That is, if it ever happens again. God forbid. Fortunately, I was snapped out of it. That's thanks to Willow. I love you, Willow. Thank you *so* much.  
  
The cell phone rang. I jumped out of my pathetic pile on the floor and grabbed it. I moved faster than I thought humanly possible all for the fact that it could have been Spike or Angel. God, I hoped it was Angel.   
  
"Angel?!" I whispered.  
  
"BUFFY?!?!" I heard Willow yell out of happiness. "Buffy! Buffybuffybuffy! Oh my God, are you okay?! What's going on?"  
  
"Willow?" Her usually quiet voice, now loud, washed over me. It didn't penetrate deep and make my totally complete like Angel's does, but it comforted me, made me remember *much* better times.  
  
"Hey, Buffy." She calmed down, but I could still see her beaming in my mind.  
  
"Willow, something awful is going on ... I ... I don't know what ... I'm lost." I tried to form the right words, but my mouth was too dry out of fear.  
  
Maybe it didn't come across to her yet, but I was terrified. Absolute terror. I would never be this scared again. If something happened to Angel again, if he was in pain, or killed, it would be my fault. Every single second of it. And besides him being in pain, besides that already being enough to kill me, I couldn't live without him. He guides me, helps me, protects me, loves me. Is me. He completes me in every way. I *couldn't* lose him.  
  
"Buffy? Tell me what's happening. What *has* happened." Her voice got quiet and serious.  
  
"Angel ... is ... gone. Or ... I don't know. Can you ... can you ... or, or Giles ... Cordelia even ... can somebody come here and ... I don't know ... I could ... bring me back to Sunnydale?"  
  
Back To Sunnydale. I hadn't even considered it. I had thought that I could just ... just stay in LA forever. Just Angel and I, together for eternity. He had wanted me to go back, but it was too painful to think about. Now that my pain was ten times greater because of him, it was pretty much okay to go back. It would be awkward, but after Angel was safe, we'd talk and work through any issues. I hoped.  
  
"Of ... of course!" Willow squealed out of happiness again. She obviously didn't grasp how much pain I was in. "An hour ... no, two. Xander says two. I got my license this summer, so Xander and I'll be there soon. Okay, um, bye!" She hung up in a rush to get me back as soon as possible. I guess *they* wouldn't feel awkward.  
  
I piled all of ... well, okay, my two or three outfits into my bag, as well as all of my other things. I threw all the food in the refrigerator in the garbage, letting out a sob when I saw Angel's blood. He had brought a duffel bag of clothes and a journal with him, so I carried that with me too. I left a note telling the landlord of my leave and had to take Angel's money out of his bag to pay for the last few days of rent. I reminded myself to make it up to him later.  
  
An hour and a half later, Willow's mother's SUV pulled up in the parking lot next to the motel. I could see both of them making 'Ew' faces at the trashiness of the place but I couldn't care less. They were probably going to make 'Ew' faces at me, too.  
  
I took a mere second to think about myself. Greasy hair, pale, too skinny, bloodshot, puffy eyes, dirty clothes. One big train wreck.  
  
"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed. She jumped out of the car and slammed into me, giving me a huge, welcoming hug.  
  
"I ..." I started to say something, but then shut my mouth. Should I be strong, let her think I was a stable person? Or should I completely brake down?  
  
My sobs came up before I could decide.  
  
******  
  
I really, honestly tried to think about something other than her. Like, say, maybe, escaping? Keeping safe? But it was so damn *hard*.  
  
I was so worried. Worry came up and choked me like a brown, murky water. It choked me, created a lump the size of Montana in my throat, made me anxious, tired, jittery.  
  
Did they take her? Hurt her? What did they do? Leave her alone? That might have been even worse. I wasn't sure.  
  
I knew what kind of emotional state she'd be in. Me, despite my recent time in Hell, I could take it. Whatever they could throw at me, I could handle. As long as she was okay ...  
  
If they hurt her, upset her, touched a hair on her body, I would just die. I can't bear to see her uncomfortable in any way. It eats me up. But if they left her alone, with *no one*, and not knowing where I was, I knew she'd be pretty bad off. She had been so clingy and dependent of me, I didn't know how well she'd react.  
  
I looked at my surroundings. Dark room, one window at the very top of the wall that was, of course, curtained. One of Spike's vampires was supposed to be standing guard near the door, but he was snoozing in a pile on the floor. I could sneak past him easily.   
  
The problem would be the door. Made of thick metal, heavily padlocked. One man couldn't break that open with a kick. Not even one vampiric man. Unless that door was opened, I couldn't get out.  
  
I'd just have to wait until someone came.   
  
But what if that was forever?  
  
******  
  
Willow gathered me into her arms and walked me to the car. She ordered a very flustered Xander into the back and eased me onto the front seat. She jogged around, got in, and started trying to comfort me.  
  
"Buffy, what is it? God, what's wrong?"  
  
"I ... I don't even know where to begin ..." I whispered. "There's so much ..."  
  
"We have time, Buffy. It's okay, you can tell us everything. It's just us, Xander and me." she coaxed.  
"Um ... well ... I left ... because, well, you know how Angel was ... was Angelus? The spell you did worked, because right before I went to kill him, he changed into Angel." I sobbed.  
  
Willow gasped in a little, trying to hide it for my sake. I didn't notice how Xander was reacting, I was so caught up in the story.   
  
"So he held me, and kissed me, and told me he loved me, and I stuck a sword through his stomach. I sent him to *Hell*. And before all of that I got kicked out of school, expelled by Snyder, and kicked out of my own house by my mother just because I was the Slayer. I just ... I just couldn't deal with anything ... all of it. So I left."  
  
"What did you do here?" An amazed Willow asked.  
  
"I ... I got a job, waitressing, and just grieved. But then ... a week ago, Angel came back. I guess you guys know the details of how and why. But he took care of me, told me he loved me. I swear, I never met a more selfless, caring, kind person. He's incredible ... and I love him so much.  
  
But then two days ago, Spike showed up in my apartment, babbling about how I killed Drusilla or something, and started beating me up. That's where the bruises came from." She waved her hand towards her tear-streaked face. "Angel saved me, though. Then this morning I woke up and Angel was gone, and this note was left in his place." She handed the note to Willow as she wiped the tear from her face.  
  
Willow read the note silently, eyes wide at her friend's experiences. She couldn't believe everything Buffy had gone through. No wonder she was mess.   
  
She didn't know how to help her deal, didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react. But she did know one thing. She didn't bring Angel back for nothing, didn't get Buffy back to only become depressed and suicidal.  
  
She knew that she had to get Angel back. 


End file.
